


Shadows Behind Snow

by 234am



Series: If the Light Takes Us [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-05 04:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16803289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/234am/pseuds/234am
Summary: Vincent and Cid celebrate their first Winter Solstice together and a surprising secret is shared.Companion piece to Glass Sandcastles.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy hols.
> 
> Takes place sometime between chapter 52 and 54 of Glass Sandcastles.

His first Winter Solstice with Cid as his husband-to-be started far too early, with too bright sunlight in his eyes and furtive knocking at the door echoing in his ears. Vincent sighed against Cid's shoulder, reluctant to get up. Cid groaned, then grumbled something, dragging his hand down his face. He was the first to get up, so it was him in his boxers that answered the door.

"Oh, Cid!" Lucrecia's voice, pitched low. "Um, sorry, Shera said to wake you. To help her with breakfast?"

"Yeah, shit, alright, gimme a sec."

"Sure. Sorry, again, it's just. There's _snow_ , really, on the first day, I didn't... It's been so long! Is Vincent getting up?"

"Should be." Cid leaned aside, twisting around to peer at the lump of blankets that Vincent hid under. "Ya comin', starshine?"

"If I must," Vincent mumbled.

He envied their enthusiasm for the morning. Lucrecia was not ordinarily a morning person, but her excitement about the holidays must have gotten the better of her. Cid, on the other hand, had the good fortune to not only be able to fall asleep almost as soon as he shut his eyes, but also to wake up quickly and be _chipper_ about it. It was disgusting, really.

"Yeah, so, be down in a sec, Lu."

Cid shut the door, then came back to kneel on his side of the bed. He braced his hands on either side of Vincent and smiled down at him, completely unbothered by the sleepy glare on Vincent's face.

"Aren't we getting up, Highwind."

"In a minute." Cid snagged the edge of the blanket and wriggled back under. He rubbed his scruffy cheek against the side of Vincent's neck with a hum. "Too damn early for us old fuckers."

"...The ladies are older than us."

"Don't let 'em hear ya sayin' so, ain't polite to comment."

Vincent snorted.

Then he twisted around, keeping his face away from Cid and the threat of morning breath flavored kisses. It turned into a brief wrestling match as they rolled around on the bed, trying to one up the other without losing the blanket. Vincent came out on top and pinned Cid's arms above his head. He sat on Cid's firm rear and ignored the light kick of heels against his back.

"Okay, okay, ya win, now what?"

"Hmm."

Teasingly, Vincent walked his claws up Cid's back, following the line of his spine. He splayed them out at the base of Cid's neck, ever careful of the cutting edges. Beneath him, Cid shivered with a noisy exhale.

He leaned down so that his mouth brushed against the shell of Cid's ear. "And now... you go make breakfast."

Then Vincent got up, snagged his gun, cloak, and belts, and went to lay claim to the bathroom. The sweet sound of Cid's cursing and groaning followed him.

Later, after breakfast, they all piled out into the snow. Everyone but Vincent dressed appropriately for the weather, all bundled up in scarves, hats, and coats. Cid stomped his boots on the back steps and hunched down with his hands jammed under his armpits, cussing because his jacket had worn thin.

"I told you," Shera singsonged, "You should have replaced it last season."

"Ahh, fuck--"

A snowball smacked Cid soundly upside the head, cutting him off. He stood there, mouth agape, as the bits of ice slid down the side of his face and spilled over his shoulder.

Shera laughed at him. Then she took off running as Cid shouted and chased her all around the yard. Occasionally, they stooped to fling snow at one another. Lucrecia backed off towards the side of the house to watch them, eyes wide and mouth hidden behind her mittens. Vincent stayed on the back steps, relatively safe from misfires.

"Oi, Sher, there're some sittin' ducks over here!" Cid hooted.

He lobbed a snowball at Vincent; it went wide, breaking apart in a powdery spray against one of the pillars supporting the overhang. Off to the side, Lucrecia gasped, a soft little, "Oh," noise. Shera laughed again, busily preparing more snowballs during the lull.

Vincent blinked. He stepped down into the snow, slow and deliberate.

Cid watched him, tense but grinning.

The staredown lasted until Shera tried to ambush them. Vincent sidestepped and ducked down, scooping up snow to pack it. He flung it as soon as he rose, smacking Cid square in the shoulder.

For his trouble, he was hit in the chest by one of Cid's, and then the back of the head by none other than Lucrecia. Vincent spunt towards her in mock outrage and gave chase. Shera came to her rescue with an onslaught of snowballs that drove him back to Cid's side. Together, they retaliated against the women. It became a gruesome war full of betrayals and triumphs.

Back and forth, all over the yard, the four of them romped about, laughing and breathless.

Vincent could not remember the last time he engaged in a true snowball fight. Their friends tried to get him to play, but without any real success. At most, he made them regret it by upending branchfuls of snow on their heads if they came near his lofty perches.

It seemed right that he would make Lucrecia's first Winter Solstice since her return as normal and carefree as possible.

"Wait, wait," Lucrecia wheezed, hands over her head. "I surrender!"

Cid and Vincent had cornered her against the house. They exchanged a look; Cid raised his brows and tilted his head towards Lucrecia, and Vincent minutely shrugged back. He waited until Cid lifted his snowball to hit Lucrecia one last time, then swung to shove his own last snowball down Cid's shirt.

"AH!!" Cid flailed and twisted around, yanking at the bottom of his coat and shirt to try and get the snow out. " _Why_!?"

Lucrecia stared up in grateful awe. "You saved me..."

"Run, Lucy," Vincent said, right before Cid tackled him into the snow.

They rolled around, shoving and kicking and trying to be the one to come out on top. It was a far rougher, colder form of the brief wrestling match they'd had earlier in the morning, though no less enjoyable for it. Vincent made sure to scoop as much snow as he could into Cid's face at every opportunity. Cid played dirty and somehow managed to get Vincent's cape off of him, then took advantage of Vincent's cold neck with fistfuls of snow.

While they were distracted, Shera and Lucrecia snagged Vincent's cloak. The two women filled it up with as much snow as they could lift, then brought it over, waiting for an opportune moment.

"Ha!" Cid crowed as he pinned Vincent with his right arm twisted up behind his back. "I win!"

His reward was the cloak full of snow dumped over his head. Over his loud cursing and sputtering, Lucrecia and Shera laughed, loud and delighted.

Vincent huffed and tried to wriggle to shift some of the snow off him. Thankfully, Cid let go and rolled off to try and shake his clothes out. Gingerly, Vincent stood, plucking at his wet clothes.

He shot a half-hearted glower at Lucrecia and Shera. It did nothing at all to dampen their good mood. They were flushed and happy and so very _alive_. It made Vincent's heart swell and ache and he had to look away, unable to hide his smile because his cloak had been stolen.

Cid caught him smiling, and begin to grin back. "Oi, starshine, the cold makin' ya go loopy?"

Vincent turned his head away from Cid, too. "No."

"Uh-huh, sure." With a laugh, Cid threw his arm around Vincent's shoulder, yanking him down a couple inches. "C'mon, my nuts're freezin' off, let's get warmed up!"

"Charming."

"The _most_."

As Shera and Lucrecia snickered and headed inside, Cid put his cold face against Vincent's cheek. A very cold nose ended up against his neck when Vincent tried to tilt his face away. Sighing through his teeth, Vincent pushed the back of his gauntlet against Cid's back, shoving coat and shirt up.

Cid jerked away with a yelp. "Fuck!" He swatted at his back as if he could physically shoo away the chill. "Tryna be all romantic and shit, this is the thanks I get!!"

Vincent stepped away to retrieve his cloak from the ground. He shook it out, then swept it over his shoulders. It was damp, heavy, and as cold as putting a solid sheet of ice on. Still, he felt more comfortable with it on.

"Is that your idea of romance?"

"Uh, yeah, of course?" Cid spread his arms, as if he couldn't believe there was ever any doubt. "...Was gonna ask if ya wanted to rent a room at the inn or somethin' soon, have a quiet night of just the two of us."

"Hm. I have an overnight errand I need to see to this week."

"Oh, yeah? Ya want some company?"

"That might be agreeable."

Cid barked a short, soft laugh. "Might, huh? Try not to sound too put out, Valentine."

"I'm not, I promise you."

Vincent headed inside, kicked his boots off near the door, then hurried upstairs to change out of his sodden clothing. Cid followed right behind, dropping his clothes in a heap on the floor. After pulling a dry pair of boxers on, he flopped onto the bed and dragged the blankets up to his chin.

"Too damn bad Shera never shared the location of her secret booze," Cid lamented. "Could do with a quick fix to all this fuckin' cold."

"We don't need alcohol this early, Chief."

Cid stuck his tongue out. "Well, _you're_ no fun."

"And yet." Vincent drifted over to the bed to kneel on the edge. He set his hands on either side of Cid, effectively pinning him beneath the blanket. "You still enjoy my company, for some reason."

"Not like I'm crazy 'bout ya or anything, starshine."

Vincent bent to nose at the scar on Cid's temple. He never quite managed to voice his affection like he should. Hopefully, Cid forgave him for that failing.

Cid hummed, a happy little rumble. He wriggled his arms out from under the blankets and reached for Vincent, fingers skirting over shoulders and neck to settle against Vincent's back. Just that, a gentle pressure of fingers splayed at either side of Vincent's spine.

"...Wanna make out?"

Vincent couldn't quite repress the snort of amusement. "Are we teenagers, Highwind?"

"Well, yanno, ya make me feel kinda like one!"

"I'm flattered, I think." Vincent kissed Cid on the forehead, then pulled back to sit on the end of the bed. "I need to do some shopping for my errand."

Cid sat up and draped his arms over his knees. "What, last minute present-shoppin'? Are ya crazy? It'll be a goddamn zoo out there!" He waved one arm, a broad, sweeping gesture that encapsulated the entirety of the holiday and how frenzied people could get. "Ya hopin' to get 'nuff presents for everyone for the whole two weeks, you're straight up fucked, and not in a good way."

"No, I have the minimum required number of presents for all of our friends," Vincent said. "This errand slipped my mind, that's all."

"Huh, well." Cid glanced over at the bedside clock. The red numbers showed 10:43. "We better get a move on, might be quieter before the afternoon rush."

"Back into the terrible cold..."

"We could just stay in bed!"

"No."

Cid groaned, loud and dramatic, and made a show of reluctantly getting out of bed. He shuffled over to the dresser with his head down and his shoulders hunched. Vincent watched with fond amusement as Cid dragged clothes on with exaggerated disgusted faces.

"What the hell we gonna wear outside?" Cid asked, voice muffled by his sweater as he pulled it on. "All our shit's soaked."

"I don't care."

"'Course ya don't. You're not puttin' that damn wet rag back on!"

"Why not, I can't get sick."

"'Cuz you'll be miserable, that's why."

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Not a fuckin' one, that's why I was askin'!" Cid flailed his arms a little, spread them wide, then dropped them dramatically at his sides. "'Less Shera's got somethin' stashed in the attic..."

"Perhaps we should make a detour to finally get you a new coat, Chief."

Cid groaned. "Coat-shoppin', _this_ time of year?"

"Afraid so."

"You're a cruel taskmaster, Valentine."

"I'll make it up to you later."

"Damn well better," Cid said, then jabbed his finger towards Vincent. "And _you're_ gettin' a coat, too."

Vincent sighed. He really had no need for one, but he knew Cid wouldn't let the matter drop if he put up a fight. Better to concede. His friends seemed to delight in pestering him to wear more than his preferred leathers, anyway. A coat could join the other rarely-worn items in storage and be trotted out for their amusement. At least this time, the look would be entirely his choice.

"If I must."

Snagging his wallet and keys from his damp jeans on the floor, Cid came over to edge into Vincent's space, right up between his legs. Vincent sat back, putting his weight on his hands, and peered up at Cid.

"Ya gonna tell me what this errand's all 'bout?"

"You'll see."

"Uh-huh, that's 'bout what I thought." Cid huffed. He held his hand out, palm up. "C'mon, let's go freeze our asses off in the truck."

Vincent took Cid's hand and turned it to press the back of it against his own cheek. Though most liked to tease Vincent for being a vampire, he did not radiate cold. He always ran too warm. Most nights, he and Cid ended up with the blankets kicked aside because body heat alone was more than enough.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, ya can gimme a cuddle while we're freezin'." Cid smiled crookedly, pulling at his hand to urge Vincent up off the bed.

Together, they left Shera's house, pausing only to bid farewell to Lucrecia in the kitchen while they pulled their boots on.

Cid's truck sat in the driveway with frosted over windows. Grumbling, Cid yanked the driver's side door open and rummaged behind the seat for the window scraper. Vincent took it from him, silently nudging him up into the seat to get the truck started. While the engine rumbled and steamed in the cold air, Vincent scraped down the windows quickly. Cid knocked his fist against the windshield and waved when enough had been cleared away.

Vincent tossed the scraper into the bed of the truck, then got in the cab. Immediately, Cid crowded close, shoving icy fingers under Vincent's arms and burying his face against the side of Vincent's neck. With an amused snort, Vincent repaid the favor by sticking his own under Cid's sweater.

"Ah, cold, shit, _why_!"

"Fair is fair, Chief," Vincent said, dragging his fingers lower. He dipped the fingertips beneath the band of Cid's jeans in search of warmth.

"Uhhh-- hey, hey, goin' a lil south there, pal."

"Afraid someone will see?"

"Nah-uh. Ya want to go out in public after this?" Cid shot back.

"...I suppose it would be one way to warm up," Vincent murmured. He bent to nose at the top of Cid's head, as if that could possibly make his cheeks stop feeling like they were burning. He really hadn't meant to go so far, but Cid brought the worst out of him.

"Nope, c'mon, Shera or Lucy could look out the damn windows--"

"Ah... I thought you weren't concerned."

Cid elbowed him, then grabbed his hand to yank it upwards, well away from the belt-line. "Ya keep needlin' me, I'll make ya blush somethin' fierce by bein' lewd in public."

"You won't."

By that point, the cab of the truck was plenty warmed up, and most of the ice had melted away from the engine's heat. Vincent untangled himself from Cid, nudging at the man to get him to move, and reached for the seatbelt. Cid grumbled a little, but scooted over to the driver's seat to buckle in.

"Where to, after we get coats?" Cid asked, as he backed out of the driveway.

"The department store should be sufficient."

"Sure."

Cid drove slow, mindful of the icy roads. He stayed quiet and focused, not even humming or drumming his fingers against the wheel like he normally would. Vincent chose not to distract him in favor of watching the snow-covered landscape roll by.

Rocket Town had several department stores, but the one they preferred was all the way at the end of main street, where the old item shop used to be. It was large and sprawling, with two floors worth of inventory. The parking lot was packed, and crowds of harried shoppers bustled in and out of the store. It took Cid a good five minutes to claim a parking spot.

"Havin' second thoughts?" Cid shut the truck off and tossed his keys up and down. He gazed towards the store pensively. "We could try somewhere else, maybe."

Vincent unbuckled and got out. He turned back towards Cid and shook his head. "Let's just get this over with."

Then he pushed the lock on the door and slammed it, listening for the click that ensured it shut properly. Cid kept saying he'd get around to giving the old truck some much needed maintenance and never got around to it.

On the other side of the truck, Cid got out with a loud, "Fuck, it's cold!!"

After banging his own door shut, he hurried off towards the store. Vincent shook his head again, smiling, and strode after Cid. As soon as he managed to close the distance between them, Vincent made sure to walk close enough that their shoulders bumped. Cid wouldn't come any closer than that, even if he probably needed to. Neither of them were big on public displays of affection.

A large crowd of people jammed up the doors. The press of bodies, chatter of too many voices overlapping, and overwhelming miasma of smells hit Vincent like a train. He leaned more firmly against Cid and squinted against it all until they were inside and away from the worst of it.

Cid led the way upstairs, making a beeline for the winter wear. Blessedly, that section of the store was relatively quiet. Few people browsed the racks, and those that did seemed to have their eyes on things like long johns, gloves, and scarves.

"D'yanno what size of coat you'll need?"

"Yes."

"...Are ya gonna tell me?"

"No," Vincent said, and moved away to browse.

Cid scoffed. "Ass."

Most of the offerings were typical fair for rural working class. Parkas and windbreakers, leather and sheep wool. The fanciest seemed to be peacoats imported from Junon or Edge. Vincent lingered over the latter, somewhat resigned to looking like a Turk again. He couldn't seem to find a knee-length one in his size and in colors he preferred.

"Hey, Vince!" Cid called out, a few minutes later. "C'mere, got somethin' you'll wanna see."

Vincent glanced around, but did not see Cid immediately. He wandered the racks and rounded a tall display of women's parkas. Cid stood in the far corner, browsing a small selection of long, dark coats. On the shelf above him, a mannequin posed in what looked like a dark blue brocade waistcoat with dark slashes down the sides and silver buttons on the front.

Cid pulled a dark purple one off the rack and spread it out over his arm. "Whatcha think?"

"I'm surprised country bumpkins understand style."

"Hey!"

"The store caters to a specific clientele, Cid," Vincent clarified. He moved closer and brushed his gloved fingers along the sleeve. "Thank you for finding them."

Some of Cid's puffed up indignance faded; he blew out a breath, then smiled. "Sure. What color ya gonna get?"

"What do you think?"

"Uhh, somethin' that'd look nice under your cloak." Cid stashed the coat back on the rack. "Prolly not purple."

The coat came in dark blue, purple, red, or black. Vincent ran his fingers along the labels, searching for his size. There were no red ones available, but one black. He pulled it off the rack and held it in front of himself.

Cid gave an approving whistle. "Stickin' to the classics?"

"My choices are limited."

"Changin' room's over there, if ya wanna make sure it fits." Cid pointed out the sign to their right. "I'm gonna go browse. Shouldn't be hard to find somethin' suitably country bumpkin."

"I saw some denim coats towards the middle," Vincent offered, as he moved towards the changing rooms.

"Hey, alright!"

A long line of people, mostly women, stood outside the changing rooms. Vincent eyed it, then turned away, going right back into the corner where he'd got the coat. It was far enough out of sight that he had no qualms shedding his prosthetic to try the coat on. It wasn't as if he needed to take anything else off, after all.

Buttoning the coat one-handed proved to be a little difficult because the cloth was so stiff, but once Vincent managed, he found that the coat fit nicely, but he would need to make adjustments to the left sleeve to allow for attaching his prosthetic. He picked his gauntlet up and went in search of Cid.

As expected, Cid browsed the racks of denim and flannel jackets. He glanced up at Vincent's approach and let out another whistle, sharper and louder than before.

"Looks real fuckin' nice."

"I may need assistance hemming the left sleeve."

Vincent lifted his left arm, holding the trailing sleeve up for inspection. Cid caught it and ran his fingers over it, then tried to roll it up. It bunched up, thick and stiff, within two folds. By three, it would start pinching Vincent's arm.

Nodding, Cid let go. "Yeah, can do." He gestured towards the racks. "Ya wanna help me pick somethin'?"

"Hm."

Vincent passed his gauntlet over, then undid the buttons of his coat. He shrugged it off while running his gaze over the racks of coats. Most of them were far too thin for winter wear, likely intended to be worn while working, perhaps inside the well-heated engine rooms of airships. He draped his coat over Cid's shoulder and wandered further down the aisles, inspecting some of the jackets lined with sheepskin.


	2. Chapter 2

He found the perfect coat sandwiched between two dull tan ones. Vincent pulled it out and it up for Cid's approval. It was light blue denim, lined with red-and-black flannel, with a sheepskin-lined hood and cuffs. Exactly as horribly unstylish as Cid liked it.

"Damn, it's perfect!"

"Your size, too," Vincent said, handing it over. He received his coat and gauntlet in return.

Cid tried it on immediately and tugged at the front to get it to lay properly. He nodded, satisfied. "Ya got a good eye."

"No. I just know your preferences."

"Aw, then ya care enough to notice!"

"That you dress like a grandpa born on a corn farm? Yes."

"Listen here, ya horror house coffin-dweller..."

Instead of paying Cid any mind, Vincent pushed his sleeve up and reattached his gauntlet. The shock of nerves connecting made him exhale a little sharper than he intended.

"...Alright, starshine?"

With a dismissive flick of claws, Vincent said, "Would you get a cart?" He held his coat out towards Cid.

"Sure. Be right back."

As Cid went in search of a cart, Vincent crossed to the other side of the winter wear section. He gave a wide berth to the small crowd gathered around colorful novelty hats, gloves, and scarves. What he wanted to look at was down a quieter aisle--packages of plain, practical socks in every size from baby to extra extra large.

Cid found him there, mulling over which style of socks to choose. "...You're lookin' at kiddie socks? Which poor sucker ya gonna give fuckin' _socks_ to for the holidays?"

"Orphans."

"Yeah, I know, those're the only kindsa kids we know."

"No, I mean..." Vincent lifted both hands to gesture at the socks. "My errand."

"Uh-huh?"

He could not seem to make the words come out like he wanted them to, so Vincent just sighed at Cid. Who, in turn, frowned and propped his elbows on the cart handle.

"Well, go on, don't lemme stop ya from your borin' sock shoppin'," Cid said.

"What would _you_ give?"

"Toys! They're kids, they deserve to have fun."

"They're kids in need."

"...So... not the orphans we actually know, then."

"No."

"Huh." Cid tilted his head, studying Vincent as if seeing him for the first time. "Didn't pen ya for the charitable donation kind."

"What is that supposed to mean."

"Nothin'. Ya go right ahead and get them socks and other useful shit... but also toys."

"...Alright." Vincent held up a claw. "But you're helping me pick them."

Cid grinned and thumped his fist against his chest, cocking his hip to the side. "No problem!"

A clearer plan of action helped Vincent decide on which socks to get. He piled several packages of different sizes into the cart, then moved on to browse scarves, hats, and gloves. Ultimately, he decided that they were a little too niche. Once winter was over, the children would no longer need them. Underwear felt too strange and personal.

"Just socks, Vince?"

"I don't know."

"Got a budget?"

"Not particularly."

"Well... ya could do shoes."

Tapping his claws against the side of the cart, Vincent gave the suggestion due consideration. It had its appeal. He remembered reading articles that discussed the things most lacking at shelters. The homeless most often wanted socks and basic hygiene supplies. Orphans were not so different, in that regard. Everyone always offloaded expired canned goods and worn out hand-me-downs, but rarely thought of the truly useful items.

"Shoes it is."

The shoe department was far busier than winter wear. Children ran helter skelter, noisy with boredom, while their parents ignored them to try and shop. Cid ended up taking the lead, as Vincent fell in behind him in a futile attempt to avoid getting trampled.

"I'm guessin' we don't really know specific sizes and preferences here," Cid said, a little loudly to be heard over the wail of a small boy that wanted the world t know how much he hated not getting sandals in the dead of winter.

"Not... really, no."

Cid pointed to one side of the aisle, where all the shoes seemed to be comprised of softer colors, with a lot of pink and blue and white. "Grab two of every size." He jerked his thumb towards the other side of the aisle, where the colors seemed to be bolder, favoring blues and greens. "I'll get this side. Oughta cover all our bases that way."

Between the two of them, they managed to fill the cart up in no time at all, even with stray children underfoot and other shoppers getting in the way. As they left the shoe department with their overflowing cart, several parents glowered at them.

One pasty man had the audacity to mutter, "Damn greedy bastards, taking everything _this_ time of year..."

Vincent caught Cid by the elbow to prevent him from getting into it. "Nevermind, Chief."

"Fucker oughta be put in his damn place!"

Several parents gasped and made to grab their previously ignored children to keep up appearances of being concerned for their well-being. Vincent sighed and herded Cid along before it could become a bigger scene.

Cid grumbled under his breath the whole way across the store, but once the toy department came into sight, he blew out an exasperated breath and shrugged the tension off.

Ahead of them lay their greatest challenge yet. Harried shoppers raced about, flinging toys into their carts, on the floor, and on the wrong shelves. Children shrieked and chased one another, playing with toys that made as much noise as they did.

Vincent exchanged a grim look with Cid. "Are you sure toys are necessary?"

"Yeah. Hang back here, lemme go get 'nother cart."

Nodding, Vincent backed into an out of the way corner with their cart full of socks and shoes to wait while Cid hurried off. He drummed his fingers against the side of his gun holster, a rapid twitch of fingers any time someone came too close. One especially bold child ran right up and made as if to grab one of the shoe boxes until Vincent glared at her. With a yelp, she fled.

Not long after, Cid came back, wheeling an empty cart through the obstacle course of discarded toys, kids, and other shoppers as if he did it every day. He came to a stop next to Vincent with his palms resting lightly against the cart handle, fingers splayed to stretch them.

"Ready?" Cid asked.

"Not like I have a choice in the matter..."

"C'mon now, starshine, if ya really don't wanna, we don't gotta."

"Toys are essential, you said."

"But it's your errand, right?" Cid sidestepped closer to Vincent, avoiding the flailing limbs of a passing child. "I've been bullin' over ya, and I know ya don't like crowds none."

"No, but your assistance is appreciated."

Cid flashed a brief grin at that.

"Let's just get this over with," Vincent added.

"Alright, c'mon, I got a plan, just stick close."

Cid led the way, walking along the ends of the aisles to scout them out. Then he turned back and picked one seemingly at random. He strode down the middle of the aisle at a steady pace, which forced everyone in his way to back out. Once he reached the end, he turned his cart to form a barricade.

"Hey!" one woman protested, and tried to push him out of the way. "Other people need to shop!"

"Ya can wait, we're doin' some cleanup to reduce the risk of fallin'," Cid said, holding his side of the cart firmly. Over his shoulder, he called out, "Blockade the other end, Vince!"

Once Vincent parked his cart on the other side of the aisle, they had it entirely to themselves. With no way to hide the upward twitch of his lips, Vincent turned his head to the side and brought his knuckles up to his mouth, feigning a need to cough. Cid gave him a squinty-eyed grin and two thumbs up.

"Okay, let's get 'er done!"

Cid walked up and down the aisle, occasionally stooping to snag toys off the floor to return them to the shelves. Vincent watched him, staying near his cart because the gathered crowd there kept trying to push past.

Some older man huffed. "Get outta the way!!"

"Maintenance," Vincent said, without looking.

Cid thumbed his nose at them, grinning. "Y'all gotta wait! Sooner ya quit buggin', faster we'll be done."

To the general muttered complaints of the crowd reluctantly backing off, Vincent moved to join Cid. "I have no idea what we're looking for."

"Well, the kids're prolly all sorts of ages and interests, so... Mebbe a lil of everything, like with the shoes."

Vincent studied the shelves. Puzzles, board games, handheld devices on one end; kites, model kits, and telescopes on another. Behind him, the shelves comprised almost entirely of plushies, rubber animals, and tubs full of small plastic figures. His gaze fell upon a stack of mog plushies. Without thinking, he reached into one of his pockets, fingers brushing over the miniature mog figure his mother gave him when he was very small.

"Ya alright?"

"I'm fine." Vincent pulled his hand out of his pocket and crossed the aisle to grab one of the plushies. "There were around fifteen children when I last visited. Should we get extras?"

"Yeah, mebbe stuff they can share, like the board games."

Together, they filled up the second cart with a handful of board games and puzzles, a couple kites and model kits, multiple plushies including the mog, and more rubber and plastic toys than Vincent knew what to do with.

Then they made their escape, leaving confusion in their wake as the other shoppers realized they weren't maintenance.

Cid snagged a handful of boxes from the ends of one of the aisles and added them to the pile. Action figures of some kind, with big, bold letters declaring them to be the _Super Summon Squad_. Vincent squinted sidelong at Cid.

"What? The show's cool! The kids'll love 'em."

"Are you admitting to watching cartoons?"

"What's wrong with that?" Cid drew himself up defensively and slapped his palm against his chest. "Adults can still watch cartoons!"

"When do you find the time?"

"Lucy 'n I watch 'em if we can't sleep."

That brought Vincent up short. Someone almost ran into the side of his cart, shouted something vaguely apologetic, and then scurried away in a huff when he didn't even react.

Cid grabbed the end of Vincent's cart and tugged at it. "C'mon, it's not that weird is it? Let's go pay and get outta here already."

"No, it's..." Vincent resumed pushing his cart, following Cid towards checkout. "I didn't expect that."

"What, Lucy watchin' cartoons?"

Vincent shook his head. "You taking the care to keep her company. Or that you were having sleepless nights. I should've noticed."

"Nah-uh." Cid waved a hand dismissively. "I've been tryin' not to wake ya."

"I'd rather you did."

"What, so ya can watch cartoons, too?"

"I would not mind."

Cid snickered. "Okay, sure, next time I have weird ass dreams and can't get back to sleep, I'll bug ya."

Vincent said nothing else until they'd gotten into one of the long lines leading up to checkout. He frowned at the pile of toys in his cart. They both had their share of nightmares, but he _had_ noticed Cid having more than usual, ever since the incident in Nibelheim... He just hadn't noticed that Cid didn't always stay in bed.

"I'm sorry."

With a blink, Cid turned back towards him. "For what?"

"Your loss of sleep is probably my fault."

"Uh, how?"

"It may be from my cells."

"Ehhh... Mebbe, but it ain't your fault." Cid shrugged. "I'm still alive, anyway."

Vincent sighed at him. It never did any good to try and talk sense into Cid. He always seemed to dismiss worries out of hand, determined to muscle through any problem, as if stubbornness alone could solve it.

"Listen, it's fine. If ya want me to wake ya up, I will."

Instead of pressing the issue in public, surrounded by strangers, Vincent conceded defeat. "...Alright."

They were stuck in the check out line for almost thirty minutes. Cid passed the time humming random snippets of songs and drumming his fingers against the handle of his cart. When they reached the display rack of magazines and snacks, he pored through a magazine full of fluff pieces on aeronautical advances, most of them about Highwind Enterprises.

Check out itself took no time at all. The clerk and baggers worked quickly, all three of them looking utterly exhausted and barely able to keep their working smiles up. Bagged, their purchases seemed to take up more space, forcing Cid to carry several of the bags.

Vincent paid and made extra effort to say, "Thank you."

"Have a good one." Cid beamed. "G'luck with the rest of your shifts."

Then they were free of the noise, the smells, the crush of bodies. Vincent exhaled deeply when they stepped out into the cold. Never had he been so glad to be out of doors.

It was snowing again. Big, fat snowflakes drifted down from the sky. Soon, they started falling faster, making it difficult to see very far ahead.

Cid cursed and shivered and walked faster, eager to get back to his truck. Once there, he started tying the bags shut so they could be safely unloaded into the bed. Vincent passed bags over from his cart, then took both carts to the cart return.

The only things they didn't toss in the back were their coats. Once inside the cab, Cid bit the tags off his and yanked it on, zipping all the way up. He then shoved Vincent's coat at him and started the truck up.

"Fuck, why's winter gotta be so cold!"

"It wouldn't be winter if it wasn't."

"Ha, ha, put your damn coat on."

Cid scooted closer, making it difficult to do as he said. Sighing, Vincent cut the tags off with his talons, then awkwardly shifted around to get the thing on, wearing it with one sleeve hanging like some ancient samurai. Somehow, he managed not to smack Cid in the face. He was not given the chance to button up. Cid pressed up against his side, shoving arms under the coat.

"Chief..."

"S'cold, gimme a break!"

Vincent draped his left arm over Cid's shoulders with a shake of his head. They stayed cuddled up together until the cab warmed up and Cid's nose against Vincent's neck no longer felt like an icicle.

"Thanks, starshine," Cid mumbled, planting a sloppy kiss against Vincent's jaw.

"I doubt I would have finished my errand without your help."

Cid's arms tightened around Vincent's middle in a brief squeeze. "Just imaginin' ya bravin' it alone..."

"Next time, I'll plan better."

"Ya gonna want help?"

"If you like."

"Cool." Cid pulled away and slid over to buckle into the driver's side. He waited until Vincent buckled up to put the truck into reverse and pull out. "Where's all this stuff goin', anyhow?"

"Nibelheim."

"Oh. Uhhh... Weather's pretty shit today."

"So I see."

Cid flipped him off without removing either hand from the wheel. "Just meant if ya want a flight over, we should see what the forecast for tomorrow is."

"I had no intention of going tonight."

"Good." A few minutes of silent, focused driving passed. Cid drove even slower than before, squinting through the weather. "Oh, hey, what 'bout stayin' over in Nibelheim, just the two of us? They've got a really posh inn, the one with hot springs."

"...I would like that."

"Alright, it's a date."

The rest of the drive back to Shera's was silent. Vincent rested his temple against the cold window and thought of nothing much, his gaze distant and not really focused on the flurry of snow and the glare of lights.

The shopping trip left him feeling staticky and numb. When they got back to the house, he was all too ready to let Cid take charge. They unloaded all the gifts, leaving them in the garage, then shuffled upstairs. Cid pushed him towards the bed.

"I'm gonna fix some tea, ya want anything?"

"...Coffee," Vincent mumbled, flopping face first onto the bed without taking his coat or anything else off.

"'Kay."

He never did get his coffee, as he fell asleep almost as soon as Cid left.


	3. Chapter 3

The weather kept them grounded for three days. It snowed in Rocket town for over twenty-four hours, then the weather moved steadily into the Nibelheim area. There, Vincent heard it turned into a full-fledged blizzard, with snow drifts up to ten feet deep. Cid checked the weather often, but since the trip wasn't a matter of life or death, he chose to play it safe.

Just as well, since it gave Lucrecia more time to enjoy the holidays with all of them.

She eagerly woke them up every morning to relight their candles in the front window. Some families lit a new candle every day for each family member, until they had an entire glittering room full of fire hazard. Shera made them settle on one candle each, to be snuffed when they went to bed and relit in the morning. She did, however, fill the other windows up with twinkling electric lights that resembled little candles.

Alongside daily candle lighting came daily gift exchanges. The holiday was fourteen days of gifting, starting small and gradually becoming more and more elaborate. Vincent felt glad he'd only had to come up with enough gifts for three people for the whole holiday. Tifa's winter party always came at the end of the holidays and she never expected anyone to bring gifts for _everyone_.

For those first four days of the holiday, Vincent gave pens and pencils, custom stationary (Cid's had "To whom it fucking concerns" at the top), leather-bound notebooks he'd put together himself, and books pertaining to each of their fields of study. He assumed correctly that his chosen family would be satisfied with things they could use for work.

In return, he received more chocolate, coffee, and wine than he knew what to do with, a whole stack of books to read while they were snowed in, a new hairbrush, and a dvd set for an old mystery horror show he'd mentioned liking to Cid. That last was something they all ended up watching in the evenings, after gorging themselves on far too much food.

Shera seemed intent on reproducing as many traditional solstice meals as possible. Every day, she baked some new treat for them to try, starting with molasses spice cookies that vanished almost as soon as they were cool enough to eat. She also had cider, mulled wine, and a variety of novelty teas at the ready. Cid grouched over her apparent inability to stick with "normal tea", but still took a cup if offered.

Thankfully, Shera didn't insist on making huge meals every night; the first night, she made a delicious french onion pasta casserole. The leftovers lasted them through the next day. On the third night, she had Cid help her make brisket and gravy, served with roasted beets and green beans.

Otherwise, they had to fend for themselves as was the norm. Cid usually made breakfast in the mornings. Eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and whatever form of grains he decided on that day, ranging from pancakes to eggy toast. Lunch was whatever they could scrounge up, frequently sandwiches or leftovers.

Vincent doubted he could stand to eat so much and started skipping lunch. Lucrecia fretted a little when she noticed, but neither Cid nor Shera thought it a problem. It was, after all, far more than Vincent used to eat.

As the days dragged on, Vincent thought he might go right out of his head from being cooped up with three people he adored very much but nevertheless wanted space from. He could only sit out in the snow for a short while, lest they crowd him with worry on his return. Cid, at least, picked up on the growing tension and gave up their shared room during the day so that Vincent had somewhere quiet to read and recharge.

Finally, on the fifth day of the holidays, the weather cleared up.

With his morning coffee in hand, Vincent stood outside in the crusty snow with his face upturned, eyes squinted against the piercing sunlight. Overhead the sky was pale blue with nary a cloud on the horizon. Though still nine in the morning, the sunlight was warm against his back. By evening, much of the snow would probably be melted away.

The back door creaked open and out stepped Cid, dressed in nothing but pj bottoms, his boots, and his new coat. His hair stuck up every which way, more so than usual. He leaned against the pillar on the back steps, cradling a steaming mug in his hands.

"Hey, starshine," he said, his voice gruff with sleep. "Gonna be clear for a couple days. Ya wanna head out today?"

"Yes."

Yawning, Cid nodded. "Lemme wake up a bit more."

Vincent came to stand at the foot of the steps. For once, he was the one looking up, though the difference between them was only ever inches. Cid reached for him one-handed. He leaned into the touch, followed it up onto the steps and up against the house to the left of the door. Grabbing the edges of the cloak, Cid drew it around himself and they huddled together beneath it until they finished their drinks.

Then they went indoors to pack their bags and say their farewells. This involved pre-emptive gift exchanges, since they'd be gone for the weekend. They opened only the gifts intended for that day; the rest got packed for later.

Vincent added two new books to his bags, then wrapped his new red-and-black scarf around his neck. It was a little awkward rearranging his cloak and coat to make room for it, but he liked the added weight and texture.

Cid slipped his gift into Vincent's pocket with a murmur of, "Open it later."

Shera and Lucrecia gave Cid two new flannel shirts and a small toolkit, which he made room for in his bag right away. His gift from Vincent was a new pair of gloves. They were of a soft, supple leather, lined with sheepskin for added warmth.

After tossing their bags into the back of the truck, Cid pulled the gloves on. "Thanks, starshine, these're real nice."

"Mhm."

Together, they retrieved the bags of gifts for the orphanage from the garage, loading them into the truck. Then it was off to the airstrip, where one of Cid's smaller planes awaited them, all fueled up and ready to go.

The flight to Nibelheim was short and unremarkable. Vincent spent it with his nose tucked into his scarf, eyes closed and thoughts drifting. Cid turned the radio on and tuned it to some classic rock. He sang along with it, relaxed and happy.

They landed in an empty field outside of town. The wheels kicked up dirt and snow against the bottom of the wings, which made Vincent sit up, half expecting worse turbulence to follow. Nothing of the sort happened.

After shutting the engines down, Cid pulled his headphones off and leaned towards Vincent. "Ya wanna make your delivery right away?"

"No, in the evening."

"Huh, okay, sure. Gives me time to find a vehicle."

"We could carry it all ourselves..."

"That's gonna be a lotta trips back and forth."

"Getting lazy in your old age, Highwind?"

"Hell no!" Cid thumbed his nose and stuck his tongue out, biting down as he grinned. "It's the holidays, I wanna take it easy."

Vincent unbuckled and stretched his legs out before him. "And what does taking it easy entail today, Chief?"

As expected, Cid's gaze followed the movement of Vincent's legs. He followed the line of them back up to Vincent's face. "Gettin' settled at the inn, mebbe testin' the bed."

"Ah... Saving all your energy for mischief."

"Yep, gonna bounce, if yanno what I mean."

Feigning that he did not, in fact, know what Cid meant, Vincent got out of the plane. The cold air against his heated cheeks was a shock that actually made him shiver. He sucked in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly.

On the other side of the plane, Cid got out noisily. He hummed as he banged into the back of the plane to get their bags. Once he locked up, he came around and tossed Vincent's bags over.

"C'mon, my ass is numb and there's a hot spring with my name on it," Cid said, already walking towards the town.

Vincent fell into step with him. "I didn't realize you owned a hot spring."

"Paid them enough for the reservation, I'm damn well entitled to it!"

Vincent snorted and Cid bumped their arms together.

The walk into town was quiet. The streets and sidewalks were clear and salt and gravel crunched under their boots. All of the trees and streetlights bore a colorful tangle of ribbons and lights, but otherwise the town was much the same as ever. Few people were out and about, presumably off enjoying their holidays indoors or elsewhere entirely.

They passed up the cheaper inns near the commercial district and headed further uphill, closer to the mountains. The inn sat on a ledge above Nibelheim, at the end of a winding half mile road lined with tall, skinny pine trees. It was a pale stone building with two floors and a dark purple roof. Clouds of steam rose around it, hot and humid enough to melt most of the nearby snow.

Cid whistled. "Looks even classier in person."

Inside, a gray-haired woman in a suit stood on the step above the recessed entrance hall. She greeted them with a bow. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yep, I'm Highwind."

"Ah, Mr. Highwind. If you would be so kind as to take your boots off..."

Cid and Vincent took their boots off and left them in the shoe rack along the left wall. Then they followed the woman as she led them upstairs, to their room. She gave Cid the keys to the room with a polite smile.

"Meals are at 7 to 9:30am, noon to 1:30pm, and 6 to 9pm. All instructions for use of the hotspring are on the walls in the bathing chambers. If you need anything else, please feel free to call room service."

"Yep, thanks." Cid tossed the keys up and caught them.

The woman nodded, then left the two men there. Cid wasted no time in letting them into the room. It was spacious, but not obnoxiously so.

In a short entrance hall, there was a doorless closet to hang their coats and things in to the left and the entrance to a small bathroom to the right. The bathroom contained a shower stall, a sink and mirror, and a separated privy closet.

Beyond that lay the sleeping area, again to the right. The bed was queen-sized, with an acceptable number of pillows and quilts piled on. At either side of it were side tables with lamps and the promised telephone. A short chest of drawers sat against the wall opposite the foot of the bed, with a flat screen television and cable box atop it.

Painted folding screens showing idyllic scenes of the mountains divided the room between sleeping and sitting area. Near the wall to wall windows overlooking the town sat two armchairs and a round table, positioned so that one could enjoy the view.

Cid dumped his bags in front of the dresser and threw himself onto the bed. It had some bounce, which made him smile.

"Whatcha think?"

With a noncommittal noise, Vincent took his bags to his preferred side of the bed, furthest from the windows. He set them down on the floor for want of anything else to do with them. Cid watched him as he crossed the room to go stand by the windows.

It always felt so strange to come back to Nibelheim, after so many terrible things happened there. Yet, he could not deny the appeal of making more _good_ memories to outnumber the bad.

He turned from the window to find the source of his best memories still watching him with increasing worry.

"I'm fine," Vincent said, before Cid could ask. "Just thinking too much."

"C'mon over here, then." Cid waggled his eyebrows and made a kissy face. "Make it real hard to think 'bout _anything_."

"Charming."

"The most!"

With a shake of his head, Vincent strode across the room. He undid the buckles of his cape and draped it in the closet near the door. His scarf and bandana were next, then his coat. He brushed his fingers down the front of the coat to make it hang neatly off the hanger. After a moment's hesitation, he shed his belts, too, loosely looping them over the closet rod and latching them so they wouldn't fall. Taking his glove off last, he wandered to drop it into the top drawer of the dresser.

"Gettin' undressed for me?" Cid singsonged.

"I can only assume you have no plans of dragging me back out into the snow."

"Fuckin' winter. I've had enough of it, thanks."

"Hn. Take your coat off."

"Can take a whole lot more off than that, starshine!"

"I appreciate your mediocre attempts to flirt, but..." Vincent looked over his shoulder, raked his gaze up and down Cid's body just because he knew the effect it would have on the man. "You're not clean enough and I'm not drunk enough."

"Wow." Cid huffed, sitting up to yank his coat and sweater off. He chucked them at Vincent, who caught them rather than let them hit the television. "Ya don't gotta be so goddamn rude, Valentine." Then he paused, face screwed up. "...Anyway, we can't _get_ drunk!"

"Such a tragedy."

Vincent folded Cid's sweater up and set it in the bottom drawer, then he went to hang the coat up. When he came back to the sleeping area, Cid had kicked off his jeans and lay in his longjohns on his belly, a pillow over his head. Sighing, Vincent moved to sit on the bed next to him. He touched Cid's shoulder, light at first, then applying more pressure as he rubbed small circles.

"Why ya gotta be so mean," Cid mumbled.

"Sorry."

"You're not."

"Not really, no."

"Asshole."

"Do you still want me?"

"For some fuckin' reason." Cid lifted the corner of the pillow to squint over his shoulder. His eyes glowed in the gloom beneath the pillow. "Sorry for bein' pushy."

"You're not," Vincent assured him.

That seemed to brighten Cid up immediately. He pulled the pillow from his head and rolled onto his side, facing Vincent. "Whaddya wanna do instead?"

Vincent knew Cid well enough to understand that he probably wasn't upset at the lack of intercourse. Still, the doubts rose up in the back of his throat, bitter and uncertain. Instead of giving voice to them, Vincent bent to rest his forehead against the side of Cid's arm.

"Hey, are ya really okay, starshine?"

"Can we just lie here a while?" Vincent asked. "Just... us, maybe a crappy movie, some tea?"

"Yea, 'course." Cid pushed his fingers through Vincent's hair and down the back of his neck, where he rubbed some of the tension away. "Yanno I'm always down for bein' a lazy asshole."

Vincent nudged at Cid, urging him to scoot over, then climbed up further onto the bed to stretch out. He ended up with Cid leaning over him, reaching for the phone on the side table.

Cid snagged the handset and sank back on the bed. The coiled cord stretched taut over Vincent's middle. Idly, Vincent flicked his claw against it to make a vibrating noise as it bounced back.

"Ya want anything 'sides tea?" Cid thumbed the keypad on the handset. Each button press beeped loud enough to be heard even without putting the speaker to his ear. "It's almost lunch..."

"We skipped breakfast."

"Yeah, so... How 'bout I have 'em bring it up here?"

"I'd like that."

Smiling, Cid set the speaker near his ear as the line rang and a voice answered. Sounded like a woman, perhaps even the same one that escorted them upstairs. Vincent let his gaze wander towards the painted screens, only half listening as Cid talked.

"...Yeah, hi, room 4, we'd like some tea? Uh-huh, sure, biscuits'd be nice. Also, would it be possible to get lunch brought up here? It would? Great! Uh, no, no special requests, just whatever's on the menu is fine. Thanks a bunch."

The Nibel mountains were not pretty. They were weird, jagged gray spikes that jutted up at increasingly bizarre angles. Only stunted plants grew in the higher elevations, warped by the excess of mako leaks from the old reactor. Even years after the WRO disabled it, the mountains hadn't recovered from the damage.

Yet, the painted screens showed the spiky mountain range snow-topped and littered with greenery. A graceful, sinuous dragon flew beneath a sunset on one of the screens. Flower petals drifted down from blossom trees. Elegant birds waded in water filled with colorful fish.

Vincent wondered whether the painter meant to create a world of dreams, or if there were some inkling of truth to the pictures.

Weight across his chest drew him back from his idle musing. He huffed a little as Cid leaned back over to clatter the handset into the cradle. Then Cid pushed off and flopped onto his back on his own side of the bed.

"Tea's comin', food'll be later."

"Hn." Vincent rubbed at where Cid's hand had pressed the dogtags into his sternum.

"...Sorry, did I getcha?"

"No more than usual."

"Ya say that like I regularly abuse ya!"

"Only my pride."

Cid shoved at his arm with a snort. "Listen, ya ornery shit..."

Pushing back, Vincent raised a brow. "I'm listening."

"Whatcha feel like watchin'?"

"Anything's fine."

"Everytime ya say that, and I pick somethin', ya turn 'round and say, anything 'cept _that_."

"Then don't pick wrong."

Cid glared at him with over-exaggerated rage, cheeks puffed up comically. He grabbed the TV remote from the side table drawer and turned the television on, all while still making that face at Vincent, never looking away.

Whoever watched the television last left the volume turned way up. A roar of sound assaulted them both. Cid flinched, fumbling for the volume control.

"Anything except _that_ ," Vincent said, as soon as his ears stopped ringing.

"Too fuckin' right, holy shit!"

They exchanged a look.

Cid broke away first, laughing a little sheepishly as he looked off towards the television. He lifted the TV remote and began to flip through the channels. Vincent wriggled a little closer to lay on his right side, facing Cid. He gingerly draped his prosthetic over Cid's stomach, ever mindful of the sharper edges.

The inn apparently invested in one of the larger cable packages, as Cid had to cycle through an absurd amount of news channels ranging from weather to sports. One news channel even seemed devoted to hourly updates on the Northern Crater, which laid dormant and silent ever since Meteor. Cid paused on that one, brows rising, then moved on.

After that came catalogue channels selling useless, overpriced trash. Then daytime talk shows, a sure sign that society was well recovered, if overpaid celebrities could say a whole lot of nothing about one another while wearing designer clothing and drinking designer coffee in designer houses.

Cid kept going, passing up cooking shows, documentaries, and more. He paused on a shot of the sky, the stars glittering in all their glory. It faded to a grainy photo of his rocket, back before Rocket Town was big enough to file for township.

"Ah, hell," Cid sighed.

Gently, Vincent reached up to prod the channel button with his claw. A certain someone once told him that the holidays were no time for brooding and feeling sorry for himself. It was only fair to ensure Cid practiced what he preached.

Cid glanced down at Vincent, the corner of his mouth twitching. Then he moved on through the channels, resuming his search for something to watch.


	4. Chapter 4

Around the time Cid found the movie channels, there came a knocking at the door. With a quiet grunt, Cid tossed the remote over, then disentangled himself from Vincent so he could get up.

"See if ya can find somethin'."

Vincent didn't really care _what_ they watched, as he wasn't going to be paying close attention. He watched Cid round the bed and go for the door while idly pushing the channel button.

The television caught his attention by emitting a low, constant growl, broken up by the crunch of bones breaking. On the screen, a black man went through an elaborate and painful looking transformation. The sunglasses falling from his face and shattering on the ground was a nice touch, Vincent thought.

He also found amusement in the fact that _this_ was the backdrop to which Cid opened the door to make nice with room service.

A skinny, short young man wheeled a cart in to set a silver tray loaded with all the fixings for tea plus fancy little cookies on the table near the window. The kid glanced towards the television, his acne-riddled face lighting up with recognition.

"Oh, _Moon Shot_! That's a good one, the sequel's not bad either."

"Ya like horror movies, kid?" Cid asked. He fished his jeans off the floor to retrieve his wallet.

"Yeah, but this isn't really a horror, mister."

On the screen, a blond person of indeterminate gender rushed between the werewolf and a hunter, taking a shot to the shoulder. They cried out, "No, don't--" right before a bloody fight broke out.

Cid handed the kid a twenty gil note. Both of them had their gazes on the screen, watching as the werewolf tore into the hunter. Vincent sat up, quietly clearing his throat, which made the kid shake himself out with a start.

"Oh, uh, thanks, I should, I should get going! Enj-, uh, enjoy your tea and movie, guys." The kid grabbed his cart and rolled out, head down and cheeks ablaze.

As soon as the door clicked shut again, Cid ambled over to investigate the tea. "Didn't figure ya for the kind."

"What do you mean."

"Yanno." Cid gestured with the teapot towards the television. "Werewolves and shit. Thought it was a bit too close to home for ya."

"It's only fiction."

"Uh-huh."

Fiction which apparently involved the beautiful blond person hugging on the bloodied werewolf until it shrank back down into a man again. And kissing, blood and all.

"Not a horror," Vincent mused. "I see."

"Yep. Ya want any cookies?"

"No."

Cid poured the tea and brought a cup over for Vincent, left plain and dark. Vincent accepted it with murmured thanks, cradling the delicate cup in the palm of his prosthetic with the claws away from the glass. The warmth seeped through to his fingertips and he breathed in the steam.

While Cid fixed his own tea up with sugar and honey, Vincent idly watched more of the movie. The apparent protagonist and their werewolf lover went home and talked their feelings out while packing up to go into hiding. The werewolf apparently had a daughter, which he sent off to stay with relatives. The dialogue and plot kind of wandered around a little confusingly, since Vincent missed out on key plot points from earlier in the movie.

Cid eased back onto the bed, holding his tea cup and plate of cookies up carefully so as to not spill them. "...Lil help?"

"Why."

"'Cuz it's the nice thing to do?"

"I wasn't aware that I was _nice_ ," Vincent said, reaching out... to pluck one of the cookies from Cid's plate. He bit into it forcefully and found it pleasingly crunchy.

"Ya _are_ ornery as hell today, dammit."

"Is that a crime now?"

"Yeah, but I left the cuffs at home, so I'll arrest your ass later."

"Hmm..."

Taking pity on Cid, Vincent finally took the whole plate of cookies and set them on his thigh. That gave Cid the means to shove his pillows up one-handed so he could sit back. He didn't bother taking the plate away from Vincent, content to use him as a makeshift table.

It was nice to just sit there and drink tea and watch an utterly insipid movie that involved a surprising amount of sex, gore, and jump scares for something that wasn't a horror movie.

Their dishes ended up on the side table by the time the sequel started up. Cid all but dragged Vincent under the covers, cuddling close with his icy feet tucked up against Vincent's legs. 

"How are they so cold, Highwind. You have _socks_ on."

"Consider it a protest against the fuckin' weather."

"That doesn't even make any sense."

"Shhh, they're havin' a moment again." Cid gestured towards the television.

"They have a moment every minute or so."

"It looks like it's 'bout to be a lot longer'n a moment."

"...Are we sure this isn't porn."

"It's not locked behind a paywall and they ain't showin' us the dicks."

Vincent considered this for a moment. "Hm." Then he rolled onto his side to rest his cheek against Cid's shoulder and his arm over Cid's middle. "Dare I ask if there are worse versions?"

With a soft laugh, Cid shrugged his shoulder. "Prolly lots of unofficial ones. Why, ya into it?"

"Not really."

"Wanna watch somethin' else?"

"Probably."

Cid felt around for the remote and found it wedged between them beneath the blanket. He hissed and cursed a little for having to stick his arm out from under to get the television to register the button presses. As Cid flicked through the channels, Vincent burrowed further under the blankets to press his face against Cid's side.

"...Ya want me to just turn it off?"

"No."

"Alright, but it's kinda hard to watch anything under there."

"Perhaps I've developed eyes that can see through cloth."

"Kinky." Cid yelped at the press of claws against his side, then snickered, squirming a little. "Ya, uh, ya like what ya see?"

Vincent lifted his head to prop his chin on Cid's chest. This pushed the blanket up so that he could peer out at Cid. It was an amusing but otherwise pleasant view, looking up Cid's nose until he tipped his chin down to look at Vincent. Blue eyes soon crossed and Cid rolled his tongue up, making a face.

Really, that was Cid in a nutshell. Charming and crass, clever and exasperating, warm and temperamental, with a handsome face and a body starting to go soft. That was Vincent's favorite part-- Cid had muscles underneath a layer of squishy chubbiness that made it nice to lay on him.

"It's all right."

"Just all right? Damn, that's cold."

Vincent snorted. "Did you find a different movie?"

"Got distracted by a certain ornery, gorgeous bastard."

"I'm not convinced that I am ornery."

"Are so."

"If I were, you'd feel it."

"Oh, darlin', yanno how much I wanna," Cid growled.

Then he yelped and jumped again, since Vincent prodded him in the side.

"Movie, Cid."

"Ah, c'mon, gimme a break, you're bullyin' the hell outta me!"

"And your feet are still cold."

"Not my fault!"

"But I am enduring them, so you owe me."

"What, a movie and gettin' stuck full of holes?"

Vincent rolled up onto his elbows and shrugged the blanket off the two of them so he could inspect Cid's side. He pushed Cid's long sleeved shirt up and frowned at the holes in the cloth, the little flecks of blood on his side. Guilt soured Vincent's stomach.

"...Sorry," he whispered, and started to pull away.

"Hey, hey, c'mon now, starshine." Cid grabbed him by the sleeve and tugged. "C'mere, gimme a lil sugar to make it better, I'm fine."

"Are you telling me to kiss it better."

Cid grinned crookedly. "Well, kiss me better, but yeah, if ya wanna. Just don't go runnin' off to be a sad bastard in the snow 'cuz our rough housin' drew blood. S'bout the norm for us now, innit?"

"It shouldn't be."

"But it is, and I'm fine with it, so c'mere, please."

Vincent let Cid haul him back down, but he turned his face away from the kisses that followed, eyes closed against the affection he felt unworthy of in that moment. Cid sighed against his cheek, then kissed him on the forehead. Too tenderly, too lovingly. It about broke Vincent's heart, the ache of want and shame at odds with each other.

Cid ran his finger tips down Vincent's face, his neck, and his arms. He lingered at the elbows, where the metal began on the left. Then he continued down over forearms to loop his fingers around Vincent's wrists. He brought the right wrist to his mouth, peppered kisses against the veins on the inside.

"Can't and don't wanna force ya to feel any different, but stay right here with me 'till it passes, okay?"

"...Alright."

"Good." Cid drew the prosthetic up to kiss the inside of the wrist just the same. His blue eyes glowed between the claws, watching Vincent as he did it. "Ya need your space, don't make me go lookin' for ya in the snow."

"I won't," Vincent promised.

Cid smiled against his prosthetic wrist, tilted his head against the leather-wrapped metal hand, the tips of claws brushing through his hair and scraping against skin. Not hard enough to draw blood but the sheer act of trust and adoration made Vincent tremble.

With a less than steady inhale, Vincent withdrew his hands, but not to move away. He scooted downwards, pushed Cid's shirt up again so he could mouth against the line of ribs and the skin around the small cuts he'd made. Feather light, as gentle as Cid had been with him, as if he really could kiss it better.

"...Oh," Cid sighed.

Vincent would have done more, but that was the moment that room service knocked again. He sat up, the blankets spilling down around his hips.

Beneath him, Cid hissed, "Dammit."

Not wanting to find out if room service had the key to the door, Vincent got up, off of Cid and the bed. Cid groaned quietly as he followed suit. He rubbed his hand through his hair, making a mess of it, as he walked over to let room service in.

The kid from before muttered an awkward, "Hello, uh, did you, uh, enjoy the... the movie. And tea?"

"Yeah, it was fine, thanks."

Nodding, the kid rolled in his cart, loaded with trays of food and drink. He exchanged them for the tea tray, and paused. "Did you want, to um, keep the tea? It's still hot..."

"Ya bring more with lunch?" Cid asked.

"No, sir, lunch came with, I think, um, water and cider."

"Then leave it, yeah, and the honey and sugar."

The kid did as Cid asked, and left with another twenty gil note and a mumbled, "Enjoy your lunch."

Vincent lifted the lid of a silver tureen to find a thick, hearty gravy loaded with mushrooms, onions, celery, and carrots. Another covered dish contained fluffy white rice, still steaming. The last dish held four thick hamburger steaks ready to be served and smothered in gravy. For dessert, they had a miniature cheesecake; its dish rested in a bed of ice to keep it from getting too warm.

"Oh, damn, that smells _good_." Cid crowded close and bent to sniff the food, eyes bright with anticipation. "Ya hungry?"

"I could eat."

When Cid grabbed a plate and reached for one of the serving spoons, Vincent laid his fingers against the back of his hand to still him.

"Allow me?" Vincent asked, voice soft and a little uncertain. He still felt badly for having hurt Cid.

Cid blinked, but set his dish down in front of Vincent. "Oh, sure."

He went around the table to take a seat, completely surrendering the task of serving their food. Vincent exhaled and inclined his head in silent thanks. The simple task of scooping out rice, laying a hamburger steak on top, and then ladling gravy over it couldn't possibly make up for his carelessness, but it helped a little. As did pouring out the tea and passing the honey and sugar.

"Thanks, starshine."

Cid waited until Vincent served himself and sat down before digging in. He hummed happily as he chewed. The food must have pleased him very much, as he barely touched his tea while he ate.

With far less enthusiasm than Cid, Vincent picked at the meal. It tasted fine, and after the first few bites, his appetite perked up. While he didn't manage the two heaping servings Cid did, Vincent somehow managed to not only clean his plate but still have room for the cheesecake. It was soft and rich and he was glad there wasn't a whole lot of it, or else he might have made himself sick eating too much.

After, sleepy and full, they retired to the bed and dozed to some sepia-toned historical drama. Vincent ended up with his hand over Cid's chest, the combined vibrations of heartbeat and snoring lulling him back to sleep whenever he started awake.

Evening came all too soon in the winter. Vincent opened his eyes to see the sky turned a dark purple, just before full night. He nudged at Cid, then pulled away, getting up to go put his cloak and things on.

"S'up?" Cid groggily asked.

"The errand."

"Oh, shit, uh." Cid stretched with his arms high above his head, his back arching and toes curled. "Mmh. Ugh, why'd we sleep so damn long..." He sighed and rolled out of bed. As he headed for the bathroom, he rubbed at the back of his head and grumbled, "Fuck, I forgot to rent a truck or somethin'... Mebbe the innkeep'll lend me."

By the time Cid came back out of the bathroom, Vincent was already bundled up and ready to go. He leaned against the wall to wait while Cid fumbled through getting dressed.

Cid shuffled over and instead of getting his coat from the closet, he stepped into Vincent's personal space. Tiredly, Cid pushed his face into Vincent's mantle, burying his nose in the scarf therein. He stayed that way for several long minutes, shoulders slumped, and made quiet groaning noises. Vincent sighed, full of fondness, and rubbed his shoulder until the moment passed.

"Okay," Cid said, squaring his shoulders. "Let's go, out into the cold, at night, 'cuz for some fuckin' reason, ya can't deliver this shit when it's a _little_ warmer."

"I have an image to maintain."

"Hah. I'm sure ya do."

After snagging his coat and scarf, Cid opened the door and stepped out into the hall. He shrugged into his coat, turning in place, and waited until Vincent joined him before shutting and locking the door. As they headed down the hall together, Cid wrapped his scarf around his neck, then took his gloves out of his pockets to put them on.

A different woman in a suit waited near the entrance. She was plump, sitting in a fold out canvas chair, and absorbed in reading something on a large tablet in her lap. Only when Cid's shadow fell over her did she look up.

"Oh! Going somewhere, gentlemen? Is there anything we can do for you?"

"Yeah, uh, was wonderin' if y'all had a vehicle I could borrow."

"The shuttle service ended an hour ago, I'm afraid."

"No, we ain't interested in tourism." Cid twisted his heel against the floor. "We got an errand that needs runnin'."

The woman shook her head. "Well, I'm sorry, but I'm sure you understand the inn does not loan vehicles."

"Oh, hell. Ya the only one on staff tonight?"

"...What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

While Cid and the woman conversed, Vincent went to put his boots on. He frowned at the woman's less than savory implications. She made his skin crawl. The old, familiar need to lash out simmered at the back of his throat, tasting like ashes.

Seemingly unbothered, Cid just shrugged. "Nothin', I was just gonna go ask 'round to see if anyone'd be willin' to give us a ride."

"I'll thank you to not disturb the staff," the woman said, with a sniff. "They'll all be quite busy with dinner, which you're going to miss out if you go anywhere _now_."

"That's too damn bad." Cid looked over to Vincent and tilted his head. "Ya wanna wait here a min while I go have a looksee at what's for dinner, discuss your particular _allergies_?"

"Alright."

Grinning, Cid sauntered off down the hall. The woman couldn't even protest, though she did make a half-hearted effort to try and struggle up out of her chair. He was already gone by the time she managed. With an annoyed huff, she turned towards Vincent, and... paused. Uncertain. He just stood there with his cloak flared around him, the edges of it shifting and flowing, pooling around his feet like blood, and he stared at her.

"You... you are enjoying your stay, I hope?"

"I was."

"Er. Is there anything I can do to improve things?"

"You've done enough."

"...Right. If. If you're certain."

The woman tugged at the hem of her suit jacket, then perched on the edge of her chair. It tipped ominously forward under her weight before she seemed to remember that she needed to sit in it properly.

Oppressive silence settled between them, heavy and thick and cold. Vincent stared at her, a little up and a little to the left so he would not have to meet her gaze but could still be mistaken for staring her down. He did not blink.

Cid came back a good ten minutes later, whistling and tossing a keyring up and down. He tipped a little salute at the woman as he passed her.

"Got our ride, Vince."

"What were they serving for dinner?"

"Some damn fine lookin' birds, stuffin' and mashed taters and everything." Cid sighed dramatically as he yanked his boots on. "Mebbe we can get somethin' good somewhere else..."

"Er," the woman said, "I could, um, ask the staff to set your portions aside, in the warmer?"

"Oh, really? That'd be real fuckin' kind of ya."

"It's, it's no trouble."

"Thanks."

Cid shot her a winning smile that did not quite reach his eyes; mostly it managed to show off how sharp his teeth were. She shrank in the face of it, and did not quite manage to repress a relieved sigh when they left.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ya scared the _shit_ outta her," Cid chortled, once they were outside. "The hell ya do?"

"Nothing."

"Uh-huh. Damn scary nothin'."

Scuffing his boots against the path, Cid led the way around the inn, to the garage in the back. Their ride turned out to be a small, battered hatchback. A large dent in one of the back passenger doors suggested the car had seen far better days. Cid let out a long, low whistle on seeing it.

"What a piece of shit, they must not pay staff jack all 'round here."

"Are we sure we want to entrust our lives to this, Chief?"

"Lemme see how she runs."

Cid got into the car and tried to start it up. The engine made a few weak groaning noises and did not start. Vincent tilted his head and listened to the muffled curses through the glass. Somehow, all he could think of were the days of Cid fumbling to keep the downed _Tiny Bronco_ going just a little longer.

Two more tries to get the car going, then Cid popped the hood and got out to look at the engine. He grumbled as he fiddled with a few things. Vincent had no idea what magical feat of engineering Cid performed, but the car started up on the next try.

"Ha! That's more like it!" Cid sprang from the driver's seat to shut the hood. "C'mon, let's get this show on the road 'fore this piece of shit decides to combust."

"It's not really going to, is it."

"Nah-uh, and if it do, it ain't got the oomph to do much more'n fizzle out."

"We could still walk."

"It's _cold_ and _dark,_ Valentine."

"We can see in the dark, Highwind."

"I don't fuckin' care! I'm not walkin' and luggin' forty pounds of presents 'round in crusty ass snow in the dead of the fuckin' night in the middle of goddamn winter! We could be inside, havin' hot food and a bath and foolin' 'round!" Cid's voice rose as he ranted, hands flailing through the air in a series of dramatic gestures.

Vincent sighed. He stepped forward to touch the backs of his claws against Cid's cheek. The chilled metal made him suck in a sharp breath and jerk away, blue eyes wide.

"I'm sorry," Vincent said. "You don't have to come."

"Just get in the fuckin' car."

Wisely, Vincent chose to get in the car. It smelled funky and it was cramped and the seat springs poked him in the back. When Cid pulled out, the whole thing rattled and shook in ways Vincent hadn't experienced since his teen years. He learned to drive in a beater car from his aunt, cruising down the country roads between Midgar and Kalm. For the life of him, he could not remember what happened to that car.

The radio did not work, spitting out only static when Cid tried it. He grumbled about that, and flopped back in the driver's seat in a sour mood.

At least the drive out to Cid's plane was short. They got out and quickly loaded the presents into the back of the car.

Vincent hesitated a little too long on whether he ought to do something about Cid's poor mood and missed his opportunity. Cid slammed back into the car and beeped the horn when Vincent didn't join him right away.

Sighing again, Vincent got back into the horrible little contraption. Cid backed the car up and turned it back towards Nibelheim.

"Don't go too close to the orphanage."

"What?" Cid squinted. "Alright, but why?"

"This thing is loud enough to wake the dead."

That made Cid bark a short laugh. "Woulda thought ya'd prefer the company of the dead."

"No."

Cid parked the car down the street from the orphanage, just outside a clothing store. The sign in the window said the place was closed for the holidays, which meant no one around to object to them using the empty parking spots out front.

Before Cid could open his door and get out, Vincent set his claws on Cid's knee, stilling him.

"You make better company than the dead."

"Oh." Cid blinked, clearly caught off guard. A sheepish smile crept onto his face and he looked down at the metal hand on his knee. "...Sorry, I'm bein' kind of an ass. Just don't get it, s'all, why night?"

"You'll see," Vincent promised.

"What're we doin' after ya show me your oh so fuckin' mysterious goddamn reasoning?"

"Dinner and a bath, I assume."

Cid angled his head to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Ya mean the shower, or were ya plannin' on bravin' the hot spring?"

"If it's late enough that there won't be anyone else..."

"I'd like that." Cid dropped his hand atop Vincent's prosthetic hand and patted it. "Oh, yeah, ya ever get 'round to openin' today's present?"

Vincent shook his head, but reached into his pockets to search for the little box. It fit into the palm of his hand and was flat enough that it couldn't possibly hold much. He thought of a cigarette case, but doubted Cid would give him such a thing, since the only things he ever smoked were stolen from Cid himself.

He plucked at the thin red ribbon that held the box closed, untying it. Then he lifted the lid to reveal four cards in clear sleeves. Raising his brows, Vincent pulled them from the box. Trading cards, he realized, with little sticky notes attached to the back of each sleeve.

Recognition of the cards made his heart clench. "Oh."

_Quad Mist_ had been an enormously popular fantasy series when Vincent was a child. It spawned board games, action figures, and a trading card game that took off in its own right. Vincent once had card albums full of every card. When he moved to Midgar, he'd had to sell them to survive.

Years later, he learned that the card game had kept going long after the _Quad Mist_ books ended. Cid had a sizable collection from _his_ childhood, and some of his most prized pieces were cards from the original series-- the ever popular Mog, Chocobo, Cactuar, and Tonberry.

Cards Vincent now held in his hands.

"Cid...?"

"Go on, read the notes."

Vincent turned each card over and the corner of his mouth twitched as he read Cid's chicken scratch, for once attempting at neatness. The notes read: _"Good for (1) day of silence"_ , _"Good for (2) artsy movies"_ , _"Good for (3) massages"_ , and _"Good for (1) request of your choice"_.

"Disgustingly cute," Vincent said. "Do you want the cards back when I redeem these?"

"Nah-uh, they're yours to keep."

"You're sure?"

"'Course."

With great care, Vincent returned the cards to the box, put the lid back on, and stowed it in his pocket once again. His throat felt tight and all the words he ought to say went right out of his head. It felt as though he moved through a Slow spell as he opened the door to get out of the car. The cold air was bracing and helped him come back down to reality.

Cid got out on the other side, watchful but not yet voicing the concern plain on his face. Vincent rounded the car one sure step at a time and came to a stop in front of Cid. He flexed his fingers and claws while he tried to think of what to say, what to do.

Ultimately, he ended up closing the distance to rest his forehead against Cid's shoulder.

"Geez, ya got me nervous 'bout what you'll do when I give ya the rest of your gifts," Cid joked, softly. He touched his hands against Vincent's, then pushed them up under the cloak to settle them against Vincent's lower back. "Ya alright there?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

They stayed like that, neither moving or speaking, for several minutes. Vincent breathed, deep and slow, and little by little his thoughts trickled down from wherever they'd drifted off to.

"Thank you," he finally managed, because that was appropriate to say, even if it felt lackluster. "I..."

_I love you,_ Vincent thought, but could not seem to give voice to the words.

Cid seemed to understand anyway. He nosed at Vincent's temple with a soft huff and a smile. "Yeah, I know."

There was nothing for it but to pull Cid closer, to cling and to kiss him. Cid chortled after the first kiss, a delighted, happy sound. Then Vincent gave him no pause to think of anything but the wet slide of tongues and lips. He left Cid dazed and breathless, mouth hanging open and cheeks dark.

"...Damn, s'too bad luggin' my dates 'round in my old shitty beater and givin' 'em cheapass gifts never worked when I was younger."

"I'm glad it didn't," Vincent said, "Else I'd be missing out."

"Naw, never been anyone like ya. Never been serious before."

"Ah."

Vincent brushed the backs of his fingers and claws against Cid's cheeks. The stubbly, tanned skin stretched taut as Cid smiled and leaned into the touch, eyes sliding nearly shut so that only a thin sliver of blue glow remained beneath golden lashes.

"It's still fuckin' cold out, yanno."

"We should finish my errand and get you inside." Vincent tugged Cid's scarf up over his mouth and nose, tucking it more securely. "Before you turn into a pumpkin."

"Ha. A frozen one!" Cid stepped back and shoved his gloved hands into his coat pockets. He scuffed his heel on the icy ground. "My feet're gonna be goddamn icicles after this. Hope you're ready to deal with that."

"Such a terrible price to pay for your company."

"Ya signed up for this, Valentine."

"I'm not sure I did."

"It's in the marriage contract!"

"We have one, already?"

"No, but I'm makin' sure that goes in it. Must let me put my friggin' cold ass feet against ya whenever we're cuddlin'."

"I'll have to think of some suitable revenge for this cruelty."

"Good fuckin' luck."

As they bantered, they went around to the back of the car to open up the hatch. Cid bent to pass half of the bags to Vincent, who hooked his arms through the straps, easily carrying the weight. Once he'd gotten his share of bags to carry, Cid shut the trunk and gestured at Vincent.

"Lead on, boss."

"I'm not your boss," Vincent said, walking down the street towards the orphanage.

"Thank fuck, get my ass fired day one."

"What would I even employ you for..."

"Iunno, sit around lookin' pretty and answerin' your damn phone?"

"You're as terrible as I am about phones some days."

"Not denyin' I'm pretty, though."

They came near the orphanage walls and Vincent held a claw near his lips. "Shh."

Most of the lights in the orphanage were off, except for the front light illuminating the path, one downstairs where once the parlor had been, and a couple windows upstairs. Vincent knew from previous errands that the lights upstairs belonged to some of the older children, who were allowed to stay up longer as long as they were quiet.

Instead of going through the front gate, Vincent led Cid around to the northeast side of the wall, where thorny vines grew out of control. The branches were dead this deep in winter with nothing but dried branches and thorns left.

"Are we breakin' in or somethin'?"

"No, just follow my lead and be quiet."

"Okay, your show."

Vincent hefted the bags, then leapt over the wall, clearing it easily. Cid followed a moment later. They landed in the shadow of the orphanage, somewhere between two security spotlights and just out of range of the motion detectors. Vincent nodded towards the nearest of the sensors, glowing red in the leafless bushes. Cid hissed through his teeth and nodded back.

Usually, Vincent just ghosted through the sensors to get where he needed, but he wasn't certain of his accuracy with so much added weight. Instead of taking unneeded risks, he walked carefully to weave between the sensors, one foot in front of the other as if he walked a tightrope. Behind him, Cid followed close and cautious, not taking a single step out of line.

They went around to the side of the orphanage that put them directly beneath the lit up windows upstairs. Vincent crouched there and turned back to Cid.

"We're going to put things out on the porch," he whispered, "once I deactivate the cameras."

"Vince, _why_ is this soundin' like sneaky Turk shit..."

"You'll see."

Cid sighed noisily, but nodded and gestured for him to get on with it.

Vincent left his bags with Cid, then slithered beneath the bushes, an incorporeal shadow that none of the sensors could pick up on. He came up in the security camera's blind spot and pulled one wire loose, temporarily disabling it. Then he returned to Cid to show him how to reach the porch without tripping any of the other sensors.

"How ya want this?" Cid asked as they set the bags out on the porch. "Just leavin' 'em like this seems kinda..."

"Hn. I have no preference."

"Okay, uh."

Humming, Cid started emptying out the bags. He stacked the shoeboxes nice and neat, forming a cube. After a moment's consideration, he rearranged them so that the colors more or less formed a gradient. Vincent huffed softly, impressed, then helped pile the packages of socks and toys on top. They folded up the bags and left them nearby for ease of transportation.

"Howaboutit?" Cid stage whispered, turning his palms out towards the heap of gifts.

"Far more clever than me."

"Nah, nah, just worked retail a while's, 'fore the military picked me up."

"Your customer service must have been impeccable."

"Damn right it was."

Vincent hid his smile in his mantle and herded Cid back to their hiding spot. "Alright, wait here..."

He flowed up the side of the building and perched on one of the darkened window sills. Inside, children slumbered under thick quilts, oblivious of their late night visitor. Vincent leaned towards the next door window, reaching with just his claws to tap against the glass.

Muffled, he heard a girl ask, "What was that?"

Another tap, tap, tap and scrape of claws, then he withdrew and waited. The moment one of the kids opened the window, he became immaterial and whooshed past them to the next window over, ruffling hair and clothes. The girls shrieked in alarm, alerting the children in the other room. Vincent kept going, a sinuous, flowing cloud of blood red. Some of them saw him, others didn't.

"It's him! The bogeyman!" one boy hollered.

Vincent vanished around the corner of the orphanage and dropped into the bushes. He listened closely for the sounds of the caretakers responding to the ruckus, then slithered back over to join Cid on the other side of the building.

"What's that all about?" Cid hissed, the minute Vincent was solid again. "They think you're the _Bogeyman_?"

"Shh, just wait."

Through the open windows, they heard the kids talking excitedly over one another and over the bewildered caretakers.

"The Bogeyman visited again--"

"--I swear--"

"All red and--"

"Whoosh, like, zoom!!"

"We gotta go see!"

"You gotta! Go look, he always--"

"It's the hols, he definitely got us stuff!"

"Better than parents, honestly!"

Eventually, the caretakers managed to get the children to settle down with promises that they would go look and see if they would all sit quietly in their beds.

Cid pressed up against Vincent's back and whispered against his ear, "Better than parents?" He sounded on the verge of laughter, barely repressed.

A few minutes later, one of the caretakers, a big, dark man, opened the front door. He stared at the presents, blinking, and then called over his shoulder, "You're going to want to see this!"

Soon all three caretakers stood out on the porch, baffled by the gifts and whispering among themselves about who or what the so-called Bogeyman could be. They kept glancing around, but they never noticed Vincent and Cid hiding in the bushes not five feet away. It was too dark out and their eyes were blinded by the light.

"Should we let 'em have this stuff?" the first caretaker asked.

A younger woman added, "It's all still new-wrapped..."

The oldest of the three, a gray-haired woman with a severe face, took one last look around and nodded sharply. "Listen to me, but don't go spreading this story around. There is a ghost who haunted this place, once."

"A ghost?" the other two echoed, dubious.

"Not a literal one, mind. Just someone who lived here before, when it was a place of monsters. I don't pretend to understand the motivations behind it, but ever since that ghost moved on, there've been acts of charity such as this."

"Huh." The man scratched his head. "So... are we accepting this?"

"Yes, and we'd better bring the children down to let them see."

"What, out here in the cold?"

"Yes."

Still very confused but obviously willing to go along with whatever their superior said, the two younger caretakers went to gather the children. They all came bounding down out onto the porch a few moments later, already bundled up as if they'd expected this.

Their delight was loud and excitable. They kept shouting, things like, "Wow, thanks, Mr. Bogeyman!!"

The caretakers gave each child one package of socks, one pair of shoes, and a toy of their choosing. The rest, they bagged up and carried inside to be shared out as needed.

"Now, back to bed with the lot of you," the oldest caretaker said, and herded them off.

She came back later to take one more look around the dark, snowy night. "I know you're probably watching. You could just come in for a drink, next time." Shaking her head with a rueful smile, she drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "But thank you."

The door shut with a very final click, and then the lights and sensors went out.

The two men rose from the bushes and left the orphanage grounds, exiting out the front gate like normal people. Thoughtful silence lay between them, all the way back to the car.

Cid exhaled and thumped the back of his fist against the hood of the car. "...The _Bogeyman_."

"No need to fear that which lives under the bed if it's kind." Vincent glanced off to the side, feeling awkward as he realized Cid might not understand his reasoning.

"Huh." Cid rubbed vigorously at his nose and cheeks. "That's cute, but... You're damn theatrical, yanno that?"

"They have preconceived notions of what I am, I'd rather not ruin it."

"Bet they'd like ya just the same."

"Would they?"

With a scoff, Cid grabbed Vincent by the arm and yanked him into a rough hug. "Ya ridiculous bastard. Bogeyman indeed." He peppered sloppy kisses across Vincent's cheeks and jaw. "I'm crazy 'bout ya, and so fuckin' proud of ya for lookin' after them kids, starshine."

"It's not that big a deal..."

"It really is."

"If you say so."

"I do!" Cid insisted, tugging at the buckles of Vincent's cloak. "Thanks for lettin' me come along."

"...I'm glad you came."

Cid beamed at him, and dragged him in for a kiss. "My very own Bogeyman, though, what a fuckin' dreamboat."

"You're not going to let me live this down, are you."

"Nope!"

Sighing, Vincent buried his face in the crook of Cid’s shoulder. “Better get used to me hiding under the bed, I suppose.”

Cid laughed, long and loud. It was a good sound that warmed Vincent to his core. For that alone, he’d endure any number of nonsensical holiday-related shenanigans.


End file.
